


The Healing Power of Touch

by neunundneunzig



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Autistic Will Graham, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Dark Will Graham, Hand Jobs, M/M, Massage, Mentions of canon typical violence, Season/Series 02, Sexual Content, Tenderness, brief mentions of Will/Margot, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-01-19 13:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neunundneunzig/pseuds/neunundneunzig
Summary: Will Graham is stressed and Hannibal helps relax him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work takes place sometime after s2e10. I'm bluffing the timeline a little, hopefully it is not too much of an error. That does also mean there are discussions of violence that has taken place in the canon.
> 
> This work will become sexually explicit in following chapters, rating will change as the content changes. However, as this chapter goes, the touching is far more relaxing than sensual. Proceed how you will.

Will sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his neck. He would have thought by now Hannibal was far past pretending to be anything like a normal psychologist. And yet here he was, being asked about the most trivial of things.

“Your mother was not affectionate to you growing up then?” Hannibal remarked, looking up.

“When she managed to be around I guess she was alright. Aren’t we a little past this by now?” He looked away. Will didn’t give much thought to his mother. He had called her after he got out of the BSHCI, but that conversation wasn’t much longer than ten minutes. 

“We are not past anything, Will. You are still my patient and I aim to help you understand the work you do.” He gave a kind smile, as if he were chiding Will. As If he had any stance to.

“You still consider me your patient then?” He arched his back a little to crack it, changing the topic gladly. He didn’t specifically want to avoid talking about his younger years, he only wished not to have Hannibal attempt to find meaning where there was only mediocrity.

“I consider you to be many things to me. Right now, we are in my office. And you are my patient here. We both know that is far from the only facet of our relationship.”

“And in your kitchen, what am I there?”

“Most often a guest and a friend. At times, an enemy.”

“Because of the gun?”

“Yes.”

Will smiled a little, figuring it fair enough. He shifted his shoulders a bit and caught Hannibal’s eyes tracking the movement. A warm darkness crossed Will’s eyes.

“And in the shed behind my house?”

Hannibal looked up at his face again. Will would see in it Hannibal at these times. A fondness that hid in his eyes. His face was the mask it always was, but there was a minute shift that let Will know exactly who he was dealing with. And exactly who he was becoming.

“My protege.” Hannibal said.

Will met his gaze for a moment before looking to the bookshelf and stretching.

“You’re very tense today,” Hannibal noted. His tone betrayed a slight irritation in Will’s stretching and fidgeting. It also hinted at worry for his wellbeing. Will found the second endearing, and was surprised that it came from a place of true concern. This was not the illusion of care he expressed over Will’s previously declining mental state.

“Been doing some manual labor lately.” He popped his back again with a small groan, “Not exactly the kind where you get to stretch beforehand.”

Once the adrenaline wore off from his victory over Randall Tier, he found himself sore. And before his muscles could fully recover, they were strained again. Will had underestimated the effort it would take to subdue a grown woman. Freddie Lounds was light, sure, but she fought ferociously. 

“I would encourage you to exercise more regularly. It is very advantageous in your current situation.” Hannibal studied Will’s body clinically, “I myself have a strict routine that keeps me in shape at my age.”

“At your age.” Will scoffed like it was any challenge to Hannibal. Will was younger, sure, but not the physical predator the other man was. He kept with the standard PT he got into when studying at the academy, but wasn’t rigorous, nor changed much. 

Hannibal kindly ignored his comment, “Otherwise I would recommend an epsom salt bath and a massage.”

“Thanks.” Will said dryly, clearly not planning on either of those. He was going to go home, have the remainder of Margot’s bourbon, and call it a night. Salt baths and massages we’re quite his thing. 

He almost laughed at the idea of asking Margot to come over and massage him. There was no way he would have a stranger touch him. He wasn’t okay with that vulnerability. He was hardly okay with the vulnerability he showed Margot. But he needed it dearly. Her intentions were clear. They were both just taking advantage, taking what they needed from the other.

“I could give you one now.” Hannibal interrupted his thoughts.

“What?” Will smiled awkwardly.

“A massage. If you would like, I’ve been told I’m quite skilled at it.”

Will searched Hannibal’s face for any sign of insincerity. He relented, finding none, “Isn’t it sort of-”

He searched for the words. Before he could find a way of phrasing that wouldn’t drip with irony, Hannibal called attention to that fact.

“Intimate? As intimate as any of the other things we have done to one another?” He leaned forward, “Why do you fear tenderness, Will? You recoil from it the way others would recoil from harshness. Were you never treated with tenderness in your youth?”

Will gave him a tired look. Trust Hannibal to find a way back to the point he was so eager to make before. Trust him to find meaning in Will’s mediocrity. He knew he had only said that to needle at Will and make him give in.

He sat forward, mimicking Hannibal, “Fine.”

Hannibal stood, a glint of amusement in his eyes, “If you’ll undress and lay on the chaise lounge for me.”

“Undress?” Will paused, caught off guard.

“Only to your comfort level.”

“This is my comfort level.” He gestured to his button up and worn slacks. 

“Will.”

“Hannibal.”

“I’m not requesting you lay naked in my office.” He chided, “I assume you have on an undershirt and boxers. I won’t worry myself about wrinkling your clothing, and you will be able to more acutely feel the massage.”

Will gave him a steely look.

“You are allowed to exhibit something that could be mistaken for vulnerability.” He noted, “It isn’t as if this would be the manner in which I would harm you. I respect you.”

“Yeah, respect is the difference between then and now.” Will shook his head, but the words rang true. They were equals. If Hannibal were going to try to kill him, it wouldn’t be like this.

Will toed out of his shoes. He found himself undoing his belt and neatly folding his pants into his chair. He unbuttoned his shirt, not glancing up at Hannibal for a moment, sure that if he did he would lose his nerve.

He set the shirt across the back of the chair and walked over to the chaise lounge, “So do I....”

Hannibal nodded, “Lay on your stomach, head centered and facing forward. And do try to relax.”

Will laid down slowly, moving around a bit to get comfortable. He felt and heard Hannibal getting closer, but only saw him peripherally. 

A warm hand pressed gently below his neck. Will made himself breath, very aware of how every draw of air shifted his chest. 

A second hand joined and they splayed across his shoulder blades. Then, fingers curled gently, just rubbing, familiarizing Will with the touch. Will made his eyes shut, trying to turn off his thoughts for just a moment. 

An image crossed Will’s mind of Hannibal tenderizing meat before cooking it. At the time, Will was not aware that the muscle and fat Hannibal prepared was as human as his own. He held back a bit of sardonic laughter.

“Are you alright Will?” Hannibal asked, tone soft, “I felt you shift. Is this sensitive?”

“No. No, don’t even worry about the bullet there. It’s all dead nerves. It’s. I just.”

“I want you to be comfortable.”

“No, just thought of something funny.”

“Share the joke?”

“It... It’s almost like you’re preparing the meat. Just, ah, tenderizing it.”

Hannibal gave a soft laugh. It was earnest, but a something hung over it. Will wouldn’t call it tension. More of a statement of fact. He knew Hannibal would not see it out of the question to dine on him, should he die by his hand.

A part of it was almost relieving to Will, in a sense. Hannibal cared greatly about what he put in his body, he had said so himself. He would be well taken care of. 

He was stroked down his side, the fingers dipping in slightly after the last rib. Then moving in, they pressed small, concentric circles up his spine. Will was grateful for the protection his undershirt provided, not sure if he could handle extended amounts of skin to skin contact on top of everything else this was. Hannibal respected the boundary, not allowing it to ride up too far or shift in a way that would expose Will.

Hannibal kneaded back down with his knuckles, hands set a little wider out, pressure on slightly more. It was a good pressure, one Will welcomed readily. He took in even breaths, pulse slow as Hannibal rubbed at the arch of his spine with his thumbs.

Hannibal’s hands moved slowly to the muscle of his neck. Bare skin. He gave Will the time to stop him if he wasn’t comfortable.

Will considered how fragile his neck was. He considered how Hannibal snapped Franklin’s in this office, and how Will snapped Randall’s before. It was a tender part of body. Hannibal said fear made meat taste worse. Relaxing Will in such a manner would provide an interesting flavor. 

But that wasn’t his motive now. Will knew. He let out a slow breath and allowed Hannibal’s touch to continue.

He soothed the muscle, sore from years of craning over papers and computers. It wasn’t a recent issue as his other pains, but a longstanding one. Once attention was called to it, Hannibal’s hands were like a balm on a burn.

Will slipped into a trance as Hannibal rolled the heel of his palm up along his latissimus. The touches were gentle, and Will found himself feeling safe. 

He lost a sense for time, focusing only on the steady movements of Hannibal’s strong hands. After what felt like an eternity, Hannibal gave a slow sigh.

“I have another appointment soon.” His hand rest on the small of Will’s back, “I do hate to cut this short.”

“It... it’s fine.” Will said softly, coming back to himself.

“If you would like, we can readily continue this another time. But perhaps when it would not cut into your therapy.” He moved his hand away.

“Yeah.” Will said softly, “I’d, uh, like that.”

He sat up, slow in his movements, feeling as though he had just woken up. He moved his head from side to side, feeling the difference down the trail of his spine, in the muscle and the bones.

“At my home, on Wednesday?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. He felt warm, suggestible. He wanted to melt into Hannibal’s armchair, not face the realities of the world for one moment. Even though he himself had become one of the harshest realities.

“Seven o’clock then, I don’t expect you late.”

“Yeah.”

“And Will?”

“Yeah?”

Hannibal gave a fond smile at his overuse of the word, “You may want to put back on your clothes before leaving.”

Will looked away in embarrassment and collected them, putting them on quickly, feeling a little disheveled in it.

He sat in his car for a long moment, not entirely prepared for the drive home. He took steady breaths, the phantom touch of Hannibal’s calm and kind hands still on him. It was intimate to say the least. But more than that, he felt safe and taken care of.


	2. Chapter 2

Will tugged at the lapel of his jacket. It was a dark navy, which looked pleasant on him, he’d been told. He didn’t know why he decided to dress up a bit for this. He felt underdressed leaving the house in just a flannel and pants. It was the first time he had been to Hannibal’s house since their shared meal after Freddie’s unfortunate disappearance. 

He knocked gently and waited. He held a small, secure parcel with meat inside, hoping the offering would satisfy Hannibal. He didn’t think on it too heavily. He didn’t feel as guilty about eating human flesh as he knew he should.

Hannibal answered. He was in just a white button up and slacks. The shirt was missing the top button, in a way that was alluring. Will felt overdressed, and irritated that he did. Hannibal looked him over with a pleased smile, “Hello Will.”

“Hannibal.” He smiled back and stepped inside, “I’ve brought you another cut for tonight.”

“How kind of you. And this one?”

“Has been kept frozen. From a lean animal. A strong one.” He smiled, handing him a portion off the leg of Randall Tier. His first true murder. Their fingers brushed together and Will’s heart jolted a little. He knew he was touch starved, but this was more than that. A shared secret between them, drawing them closer.

Hannibal took the meat into the kitchen, gazing back at Will, “Come. You’re to help me prepare.”

Will followed, a little transfixed. He was instructed to sliced herbs for Hannibal. It was hard not to feel a bit of exhilaration. He managed well at first, but lost focus, slicing his forefinger with the cold steel. Hannibal’s head snapped around at Will’s hiss of pain.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine, just a little... shit yeah it’s bleeding.”

Hannibal moved close to him and took his hand. Will was reminded of the gentle way Hannibal cleaned his wounds after the death of Tier. The gentleness, the kindness. Hannibal’s touch was next to addictive. He squeezed Will’s hand gently, blood welling up slightly. 

Then, he brought the wound to his mouth. Will thought for a moment it was a gentle kiss, but he knew Hannibal’s motive. He felt the touch of tongue against his cut, and held back from wincing. Hannibal pulled back, looking at it with some curiosity. 

“How do I taste, Dr. Lecter?” he said softly.

“No different than the blood of any other.” He dabbed at his finger with a hand towel now, smiling softly, pleased. He was satisfied that Will saw both the importance and intimacy in this.

“Would you have expected anything else?”

“Your meat, I’m sure, would be one of the best meals I’ve tasted.”

“Oh? Do you prefer game, or something more domesticated then? Our meal tonight was wild animal. I hope that doesn’t disappoint.”

“Not at all. Which do you consider yourself to be, dear Will?”

“I believe you’re trying your hardest to domesticate me.” He said softly, trying not to give hint to the way the idea exhilarated him. 

“I don’t believe anything could make you less of the beast you truly are.”

“Not even you.”

“Especially not me.”

Will moved a little closer, making himself look in Hannibal’s eyes. It was a steady and safe connection. He gave a soft smile to him, forgetting all about the minor pain of his finger, thinking more on how Hannibal was still gently cupping his wrist.

“And if I want you to domesticate me?” His eyes glimmered slightly, letting on his deep interest.

“Then I cannot do anything but oblige.”

Will moved closer, their faces inches from one another. He was reminded of the way Hannibal embraced him when he almost shot Peter’s social worker. A tenderness and pride. Hannibal Lecter’s protege. He spoke, knowing Hannibal would be able to feel his breath.

“You could prepare me perfectly for the slaughter.”

“You don’t know the gravity of your words, Will.”

“I know them just fine. That’s why I’m here now.”

“For your slaughter?” He grabbed the knife in a smooth movement, not regarding much how it was still stained with small drops of Will’s blood.

Will closed his eyes, welcoming and expecting whatever would come next. 

He found himself disappointed.

Hannibal turned, slicing the herbs thinner, leaving the air by Will still warm, but drained of it’s potential. Will felt teased, but not sure what by. He wouldn’t have expected Hannibal to slit his throat and lap at the warm blood, of course. No. But it was still a thought that passed through his head. And he was sure that was exactly what Hannibal wanted.

“How is your back treating you now, Will?”

“Better.” He muttered, trying not to sulk, “Still not fantastic, but it never is.”

“I can give you another massage after dinner?” He offered, an olive branch after denying Will whatever he was looking for in his prior offer.

“I would like that.” Will smiled gently.

* * *

Will waited by the fireplace as Hannibal did the dishes. Will insisted on helping, only to immediately drop and shatter a wine glass. Hannibal was polite, but clearly irritated at it. Will decided it was best to leave it alone after that. 

He didn’t think Hannibal was angry at him, but it was best to step back from the situation at the time. In his head, he saw Hannibal slicing him with the glass shards. He knew that, for just one moment, it was what he desired to do. But he was in good control of his urges when needed.

Hannibal entered later with two glasses of scotch, setting one down by Will, “I trust you won’t break this one?”

“Sorry.” he muttered.

“You are forgiven.” He gave a warm smile and sat down close to Will. Their arms brushed against one another. Will looked away, lacking the confidence of earlier. 

He sipped the scotch. It was smooth, he wouldn’t expect Hannibal to have anything but high quality. They sat in silence, comfortable to some extent. 

Once Will’s glass had been emptied and refilled, he was feeling warm and relaxed. He looked over at Hannibal. He wanted to be massaged now, definitely. His comfort level with touch was always greater with a little bit of a drink in him.

“Should I, uh, undress then?” He licked his lips.

Hannibal looked up and regarded him with curiosity.

“For the massage.” He coughed.

“Ah. Yes that would be preferable.”

Will nodded and turned away from Hannibal, stripping down and laying the clothes gently on a nearby chair, careful to smooth out every wrinkle. He bit his lip, regretting passing on wearing an undershirt to reduce bulk. Will swallowed and sat back by Hannibal, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

“I want you to cross your legs and sit with your back facing me.” Hannibal said in a low voice. 

Will obeyed, taking another small sip so his nerves didn’t show through. He was suspecting his partial nudity wasn’t completely necessary in this. He didn’t find himself minding as much as he usually would.

Hannibal went slow and gentle as the first time, rolling his hands along the flesh, rubbing at the muscle underneath. Will lost track of himself, just submitting to the sensations, eyes closing.

Hannibal’s gentle hands pressed the tension out of his shoulders and back. Will was feeling warm, drowsy and pliable when his hands trailed down and he pressed closer, rubbing Will’s thighs.

He gave a soft gasp, eyes fluttering open. He watched the hands, too close, too intimate. 

“The thighs are a very important cut.” Hannibal muttered in his ear, “I would want them as tender as any other.”

Will couldn’t suppress the shiver, nor the eroticism he was finding in the doctor’s hands on such a sensitive area. He bit his lip as Hannibal’s thumbs traced down the line of his sartorius. His fingers worked back up in small circles on his adductors. The firm touch on his inner thighs was maddening. He closed his eyes, feeling his body respond to the touch.

“Are you still so tense, Will?” Hannibal’s lips nearly grazed his ear, “How more can I relax you?”

One hand pulled up, resting on Will’s stomach, fingertips just barely brushing his waistband. Will was hard now, trying to ignore it, and hoping against all reason that Hannibal did. This was a line they hadn’t crossed. Will didn’t even consider that Hannibal could be anything but heterosexual, despite the way he fought to own every inch of Will and mold it to his desires. 

He supposed then, this was natural that Hannibal would want this part of him too. He let himself relax, signalling to Hannibal that he could continue on.

Hannibal slid Will’s boxers down, “My sweet Will, I want to take care of every one of your needs. Do you understand this?”

He nodded, unable to make himself speak.

Hannibal took him in one hand and began to slowly stroke him from base to tip, then back down. He hands were warm and strong, and Will felt too safe and happy in them to think much more about anything but sensations now.

He continued a simple rhythm for a bit before moving his other hand down to cup Will’s testicles, rubbing them with his thumb slowly. Will let out a low groan, then bit his lip.

“No, that won’t do. I want to hear you, dearest.” Hannibal said, voice low. He rolled his fingers slightly, teasing.

Will found himself lacking shame soon enough. He started rolling his hips into the other man’s touch. He watched, transfixed by the way his strong hands looked around Will, and how natural it all felt. He was cared for.

He gasped at the feeling of gentle kisses at his shoulder. He turned his head and Hannibal caught him in a deep kiss, instantly speeding up his ministrations.

Will bucked his hips and moaned into Hannibal’s mouth, pulled closer as Hannibal’s free hand grabbed his chest and pressed him back against him. The kiss was messy and needy but slow. Will let Hannibal slide his tongue into his mouth, willing to take whatever the man decided to give him. He arched against him, writhing in pleasure as Hannibal scraped his nails up Will’s thighs. He couldn’t control the noises he was making, completely submitting to his whims.

Hannibal gave his inner thigh a firm slap, then stroked harder, trying to push Will over the edge.

“Hannibal!” Will panted, just taken by surprise. He moved back against the man, further aroused to remember that Hannibal was fully clothed against him.

He moved his mouth to Will’s neck and bit down, not hard enough to bruise, but enough for Will to feel. There was an order in his motions, and Will could not refuse it. He pushed into Hannibal’s hand and came, coating his own legs and the man’s hand. 

Will rode it out for a moment, then huffed, trying to bring his heart rate back down. 

He paused, then grabbed Hannibal’s collar and brought him into a more balanced, slower kiss. He broke away after a moment, looking Hannibal over. The pleased look on the man’s face was almost irritating, but Will couldn’t help but smile.

Hannibal kissed his forehead, smiling softly, “I don’t know when you expected to leave. Will you allow me to take you upstairs and clean you off?”

Will smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. He cupped Hannibal’s erection through his pants, “Yeah. I think I can stay a while.”


End file.
